


Find Peace

by jazzayeet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Malcolm loses his smashing privileges, Murder, Octavia is useless, Ryan takes a 2 hour shit, Super Squicky, Sylvia Plath inspired this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 23:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzayeet/pseuds/jazzayeet
Summary: A study in character death and graphic violence.





	Find Peace

**Author's Note:**

> If you're unable to finish reading this work, could you comment the exact point where you stopped? I'm curious :)

Winnie stood alone near the table. Malcolm looked up at her and grinned. There was no one to protect her—Octavia was talking to someone at her table, Daniel didn’t seem like he was focused on anything at all. Malcolm started to advance towards her, knife in his hand, the blade catching the light from the chandelier. Winnie stepped backwards, trying to put distance between herself and the grey-skinned man. She needed to find a way to escape. She walked backwards, only to bump into someone—a man in a tuxedo who looked down at her with indifferent surprise. She grabbed him, eyes begging him to help her. 

He turned away from her as Malcolm grabbed her arm, claw-fingernails digging deep into soft, butterfly-wing skin and drawing blood. She could see the hunger in his eyes as he licked his lips and started to drag her away. She planted her feet and tried to tear her arm out of his grip. “H-help me!” She begged, looking around the room. A few people looked, some even seemed concerned, but nobody did anything. They just looked at each other uncomfortably while none of them did a thing to help her. Winnie desperately looked for someone she could trust. Octavia, Ryan, Daniel, Liana, Envangeline, anyone. They were either not there, or not looking at her. 

Malcolm growled at her, leaning towards her to hiss into her ear. “Shut your damn mouth.” He pulled on her arm, dragging her away from the dining room. She kept trying to fight, twisting and pulling to try to break free of his grip. His fingernails tore through her skin, leaving deep gashes in their wake. He yanked her towards him, so that he was right up against her. “Stop squirming,” he snarled into her ear. He pointed his knife towards Kennith, who was sitting over at her table, happily eating a bowl of stew. “You just be a good little girl, or you and I can go see just how much blood is in a body that small.” 

Winnie looked at Kennith, tears filling her eyes as she looked up at Malcolm. She didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t let him hurt that little boy. “L-let me go,” She pleaded, trying to pull herself away from him, “P-please.” 

Malcolm didn’t let go of her. His grip on her arm only tightened, and he dragged her away, opening the door to a deep closet. Winnie reached desperately towards Octavia, who was so engrossed in a conversation with Envangeline that she didn’t even notice Winnie was gone. 

He stepped inside with her, closed the door behind him, and locked the door. He threw her to the ground, and she landed with a thud. She didn’t even have a chance to push herself to her feet before he got down to the ground, pressing his knee into her chest to pin her down. He raised his knife up. He was going to kill her. Winnie didn’t want to die; she had no choice but to fight. She reached up to try and block the knife, but it was no use. He pushed the knife past her hand and into her arm. She screamed in pain. Malcolm paused to lick the blood off of the back of his hand before wiggling the knife around inside her arm. She felt the blade moving under her skin, the wound widening into a gaping hole to match the one in her thigh. She heard her muscles and tendons ripping as the knife sliced through them. She squirmed, unable to move her arm with the knife inside of it.

He pulled the knife out and licked the blood off. He looked at her hungrily, licking his lips. He moved his knee down off of her chest and straddled her, moving down her body slightly before laying forward, pressing his chest against her stomach, licking the blood off of her arm as it flowed from the wound. He let out a moan, a noise halfway between desire and hunger. It was almost impossible to tell the difference.

Winnie sobbed, pushing and kicking at him, hands and feet flailing wildly. She needed to get him off of her. He was so heavy, far heavier than he looked like he should’ve been. She managed to kick him near his crotch, and he grunted in pain, pausing momentarily before going back to licking her blood, pressing his body onto hers, nearly crushing her under his weight. She shook her head more insistently, fighting with every ounce of strength she had, trying desperately to push him off of her. “P-please, don’t…” She begged, voice tight and weak from the lack of air as his weight compressed her lungs, “Y-you’re hurting me. I can’t—I can’t breathe.” 

The man ignored her pleas. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, voice somehow both harsh and gentle, oily and gravelly. “Just stay still.” He stopped licking to look at her face, her eyes wide with fear, tears running down her cheeks. He smiled down at her like a wolf—no joy, no genuineness, just hunger. It was a smile she knew all too well, one that she had promised herself she’d run from if she ever saw it again. But she couldn’t run.

She thought of her baby, how he’d been brought into the world not by love, but by force. It was all she could think of, and she wept. Never again. She couldn’t let that happen to her again. She kept trying to push him away, pleading, “P-please, don’t.” But he didn’t move. Blood ran down his chin, dripping onto the floor. 

He moved up again, so his face was hovering over hers. He gently pushed her head, turning it to the side to expose a point of her neck right by her spine. He held her head in place with a hand against her cheek, leaning into her neck with what could only be described as a perverse tenderness. She felt his breath on her skin, then the unmistakable feeling of teeth sinking in. She gasped, clenching her jaw as a fractured squeak of pain ripped itself loose from her throat, as though it had been dislodged by his teeth. He pulled his head back, tearing a chunk of flesh away and revealing vertebrae. Blood oozed warm and wet, pooling into the hole and overflowing down her neck. She could hear the sound of him chewing on her flesh, then the sound of him swallowing. He was eating her. He was going to eat her alive. Winnie sobbed as realization hit her. “HELP ME!” She screamed, back arching off the ground as she tried to pick her head up, hoping someone would hear her.

Malcolm grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it away from her neck, leaning into her ear. “You know what?” He growled, voice low. “I could keep you as my personal food source; you could stop complaining. Or I could drag you into a dark hole where you will be tortured every day for the rest of your pathetic life.” She felt his breath against her ear, then his teeth sinking into her neck again, just a few centimeters away from the first bite. “You can squeal like a stuck pig all you like. No one is going to hear you.”

The man’s lips brushed her neck lightly as he drank the blood from the gaping wound, licking and sipping and slurping. The sounds made her sob helplessly. It was agony. “P-please, why are you d-doing this?!” 

He took another bite of her neck, moaning. “Because,” He murmured, “You are perfect.” He licked her face, dragging his tongue down her cheek, along the tear tracks that ran down her face, leaving behind a trail of saliva that ran into her mouth and eye. “Now, let’s see…” He mumbled, running his fingers along her jaw and tilting her chin up. “What do you want me to eat off next?” He asked her, digging his thumbnail into her arm until he saw blood. He smiled at her sadistically, letting out a cruel laugh.

“L-let me go,” She begged, shaking her head. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. Maybe he’d come to his senses. Against all sensibility, she wanted to believe this man wasn’t completely monstrous. Maybe he was under some sort of external influence. Maybe he couldn’t help herself. Maybe she could snap him out of it. She knew it defied all logic. It was foolish to believe she could stop him. “Wh-why m-me?” She sobbed. Why was he doing this to her, of all people? What was so perfect about her? Why did he want to kill her? She was powerless. “P-please, n-no.” She cried, voice quaking with fear. She didn’t want to die.

He let go of her arm, put his hands around her throat, and started squeezing. Winnie was terrified, kicking and pushing and squirming and grunting as she tried to make him get off of her. She couldn’t die. Not like this. Not here, not now. The blood in her carotids tried to force its way past his fingers, to no success. His nails dug into the skin of her neck, leaving deep crescents in their wake. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull his hands away from her neck, but his grip was too strong. “Why you?” Malcolm echoed her, “You have the most perfect blood type, my darling.” She was about to black out when, finally, he let go. 

Then, he stuck his hand down her throat. Winnie choked and gagged as she felt something bitter and powdery running down the back of her throat. Her tongue went numb almost instantly, and her eyes widened. He bent down to her arm and sunk his teeth into her velvet soft skin. She felt them hitting bone and forcing their way through, heard the way her bone cracked and splintered, and she screamed in pain. His hand was still in her mouth. Now was her chance. Maybe she could get him to leave her alone. She bit his hand as hard as she could, her teeth sinking through his skin and muscles, She felt his bones cracking between her incisors, and still, she didn’t stop. Even when she felt his blood in her mouth. She couldn’t stop. She refused to die like this, in a closet with a man on top of her. The man yelled in pain and anger and grabbed her chin, forcing her jaw open and pulling his mangled hand out of her teeth. As soon as his hand was out of her mouth, Winnie screamed as loud as she possibly could, “HELP ME, PLEASE!” She sobbed. “SOMEONE, PLEASE! PLEASE!”

Malcolm looked at his hand. Blood ran down it from the cuts her teeth had formed, and two of his fingers were broken at the base. He let out a pained grunt, then he turned to Winnie, face contorted in rage as he looked at her like a wolf looks at a fawn before it strikes. Winnie spat the blood out of her mouth at him in an act of unusual defiance. He bared his teeth at her and let out a low growl. Then, without hesitation, he lowered his head and sunk his teeth into her arm, just above her elbow, shaking his head back and forth like a dog, tearing the flesh loose. Red strings stretched and snapped as the flesh was disconnected from bone. Bright red blood spurted out sporadically from the wound, and she put her hand over it to try to control the bleeding. He stood up, finally getting off of her. The relief lasted for only a second before he brought a booted foot slamming down into her arm. The bones gave a loud, nauseating crunch as they splintered apart. The pain shot up her arm like a bullet, and she screamed through gritted teeth. He kept kicking, slamming the toe of his boot into her face. Her lip split wide open, then the boot struck her nose, breaking it. She brought her hands up to cover her face, curling into a ball to try to protect herself from the onslaught of kicks. Her ribs cracked and broke, she heard them snapping and scraping past each other. She was in agony, wishing it would end, praying to God that he’d stop. But he didn’t. The kicks just kept coming, one after the other

She didn’t understand why this was happening to her. Why was he torturing her like this? She wondered if she’d done something wrong. Maybe that was why Octavia wasn’t here. Maybe if she’d done something different, something better, Octavia would’ve come to save her, maybe Ryan would be kicking the door down, maybe Envangeline would convince Malcolm to stop. She sobbed as he kept kicking her. Her mind was growing cloudy with the pain, and she could barely think. She couldn’t die. Not like this. She held out a hand to try to block his foot, but that accomplished nothing. He grabbed her hand and crushed it in his, twisting it as hard as he could. The bones all broke at once with a noise like almonds cracking between teeth. She didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore, she just sobbed. Her cries for help faded to just above a whisper. “Help me… Help… Please...” She looked at the man through bruised eyes in broken sockets, pleading. “Please, s-s-stop.”

He snarled at her, kicking her in the face again. She coughed up blood, it ran from the corners of her mouth in droplets. Then, he dropped to his knees, pinning her to the ground with a knee to her stomach and clawing into her face. He dug his fingernails into her eye and ripped it out. Blood exploded from the socket, and he swallowed the eyeball. Winnie was helpless to do anything but watch on in horror. She sobbed in pain and fear as he grabbed her neck and started to bash her head against the floor, grunting in rage, lifting it high and then bringing it slamming down with every ounce of strength he had, over and over again. She could feel her skull cracking, pieces rubbing against and stabbing into the membranes underneath them. She cried in pain, her sobs faded to quiet weeping. 

Then the door clicked and opened. There was a pause, then she heard a scream. A woman’s voice yelled, “Malcolm, stop! Oh, mon Dieu, Winifred, Winnie. Stop! Stop, now! Winnie, mon Dieu. Why?! STOP IT!” 

Malcolm stopped instantly, dropping Winnie’s head on the ground and turning to look at the woman who walked in. “Envangeline, my love. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Look at me, I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” He grabbed her shoulders with bloodied hands.

Enva jerked herself away from him. “Forgive you?!” She yelled. Suddenly, Winnie moaned in pain. Her head felt like there were a hundred knives being shoved into it, and each sound was like a jolt of electricity. Envangeline looked at her, gasping. She was still alive. She turned back to Malcolm. “How could you do something like this?!” She demanded, voice quiet. Her tone made it obvious that she wasn’t looking for an answer. She pushed past him and knelt down next to Winnie. “Winnie? Ma chère, please, stay with me.” She begged. Winnie’s head pressed against the wooden floor, her back arching painfully. Envangeline gently pulled Winnie towards her, cradling her head in her lap.

Malcolm suddenly grabbed Envangeline’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, my little minx,” He said. 

Envangeline tensed up, jerking away from him. “Get your hands off of me!” She hissed, voice full of hate. 

Malcolm stepped back, standing up and sighing. “Luvvie, please, don’t take this the wrong way.”

Enva growled at him. “Stop talking,” She said softly, coldly, “Stop everything. Just…stop.” 

Winnie was clearly in agony. Her face was a patchwork of pale skin and bruises and cuts. She opened her mouth to speak, but what came out could hardly be considered words. “Env—… h-hurts…” Her voice was so soft, and everything was slurring together. Tears ran down her face. Each breath came as a painful gasp, and with each second they seemed to grow farther and farther apart. She couldn’t hold Envangeline’s hand when the woman grabbed hers, or when she gently put a hand on her cheek. She couldn’t focus her eyes on Envangeline. “I—… s-scared… don’t…” 

Envangeline shook her head, tears running down her face and into Winnie’s hair. “Shhh, Je sais, ma chere,” She whispered, “I know. I’m not going anywhere,” She promised, gently pushing Winnie’s sweat-soaked hair away from her face. “Je suis là. Je ne vais nulle part. I’m right here. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Je suis vraiment désolé. I am so sorry I couldn’t do anything.” She put her hand gently on Winnie’s cheek, under the bleeding socket where her eye had been. “What can I do for you, cherie?” She asked.

Winnie breathed slowly, gasping. “S-sing…” She said softly. She didn’t want to die in silence. 

Envangeline nodded and thought for a moment before she softly began to sing a lullaby. “Petit ange aux yeux bleus, Sur les bras de ta mère…” She went on, voice soft and gentle as she sang. As the song went on, Winnie’s breathing slowed down even more. The space between each gasp grew from a second, to three seconds, to five, to seven, to nine. She was fading. Death had not come for her in the violence a few minutes ago, it was coming to her in a moment of peace, the last one she would ever have. 

She tried to sing along, but her voice was barely audible, and she couldn’t form words at all. She was just mumbling softly along, gasping every now and then. The gasps were joined by a noise like a soft moan of pain. Her body spasmed, back arching as her chin tilted upwards. Each breath hurt more than the last, and the agony didn’t subside between breaths. 

She breathed four breaths like this. The fifth never came. She stared at Envangeline’s face, her remaining eye faded, her hand resting lifelessly in hers. Her body went limp. Envangeline looked at her, tears running down her face as she struggled to finish the song. “Dépose sur ta bouche, un baiser maternel.” She paused, bringing her hand up to close Winnie’s eye, and to slide the lid down over the hole where the other one was, gently brushing the blood away with the side of her thumb. She pressed a soft, tender kiss to Winnie’s forehead. “Winnie, I’m so sorry,” She whispered, “You were so strong. You didn't deserve this,”

She sobbed, holding Winnie’s body close to her. Malcolm took a step towards her, “Enva…?”

Envangeline didn’t even look at him for several moments. “She was the ONE person out of all of us that was truly innocent, and you murdered her!” She shouted, voice trembling as she gasped for breath. You took the last bit of brightness on this godforsaken ship and you snuffed her out. You are a disgusting, vile creature.” She brought her eyes to him. “Tell me, Malcolm, how—how long did it take her to die?” She tried to catch her breath. “How long did she suffer? Thirty minutes? An hour? Two hours? And you have the audacity to say 'I'll get you whatever you want'?! You're despicable, and you're an absolute idiot if you think I'll ever forgive you. You should be the one who’s lying on the floor, dead. I hope you die. I hope you suffer like she did." 

“Enva. My turtle dove. Please, calm down. She was going to die either way, and there are plenty of other nice people out there,” Malcolm said, tears in his eyes, kneeling. “She only suffered for about two hours, maybe longer. You don’t have to worry, please...Darling, don’t take this too hard.” As he spoke, he slowly knelt in front of her, arms reaching for the corpse in her arms to take her away so he could be alone with Enva. 

“No. You won't take her, you won't touch her, you won't disturb her now.” Envangenline said, voice half yelling, half threatening, but neither were strong enough to stand out. She held Winnie tighter as Malcolm tried to take her away. Enva nearly threw up at how casually he said she had suffered for two hours. She wouldn’t have died like that, not so young, so viciously. “Don't call me that! How can you say that?! She didn't deserve any suffering, and you gave her two. hours. She wouldn't have died now, so young, she wouldn't have died like that.”

Malcolm frowned as Enva pulled away from him. “She was weak, she wouldn’t have survived anyway, if given the chance. Please, take me back. You mean the world to me.”

“You know NOTHING!” Envangeline shouted. “She was stronger than any of us combined. She would have survived. She shielded Winnie’s face with her arm. "I don't want you. I will never want you. You are the worst thing this world has to offer. I don't care in the least what I mean to you, you mean nothing to me, absolutely nothing,” She whispered to Malcolm, “You were a good fuck, that's it. I feel nothing for you. I never did, and you're insane if you think I ever will.”

Malcolm held onto her shoulders, refusing to let her go. ““Every dog has its day,” He said. He leaned in to kiss her, but she leaned away, putting her and up to shove him back. “Don’t worry about Winnie anymore. Yes, I am a monster, but at least I have some sanity left. Unlike others.” After a moment, he stopped trying to kiss her, stopped trying to convince her to love him again. 

“Did you feel anything? Did she say anything while you tortured her? Did she beg you for mercy?” Envangeline growled at him.

Malcolm sighed, standing up and stepping back. “I’m sorry…” He said, turning away from her. 

Enva looked at Winnie’s body for a moment, gently kissing the top of her head. “Goodbye, petite ange,” She whispered, holding onto her like a mother holding her child.. “I hope you can find peace, sweet Winnie.”


End file.
